“Why, not at all! you see that we do not stand on ceremony.” As Madame Glumeau was about to leave the salon, the door opened, and an old and exceedingly ugly man in blue spectacles entered, escorting a tall and well-built young lady, dressed with affected elegance, and endowed with one of those faces that never change. “Monsieur and Mademoiselle Camuzard!” cried Madame Glumeau, turning back to welcome the newcomers. “How good of you to come early! Pray come in.--Edouard, here are Monsieur Camuzard and Mademoiselle Polymnie.” Edouard had gone to examine his complexion in the mirror; when he saw that more guests had arrived, he uttered a hollow groan, then did his utmost to assume a smiling countenance, saying to himself: “I shall never be able to take my enema! this is getting to be very alarming!” Mademoiselle Polymnie had in her hand a huge bouquet, which she presented to Glumeau, saying: “Monsieur, will you allow me to wish you a happy birthday?” “To be sure, mademoiselle, with the greatest pleasure; I am deeply touched. What a superb bouquet! You are too kind.” “Sapristi! how sorry I am that we didn’t bring one!” exclaimed Dufournelle again, while his wife laughed heartily as she looked at the pictures on the music and at Mademoiselle Camuzard. “How is your health, my dear Glumeau?” inquired the old gentleman, shaking his host’s hand violently. “Very good, Monsieur Camuzard; my health is very fair, although it isn’t all that I could wish.” “Are you in pain?--I have pains in my knees and arms; and it keeps catching me here, you see, and extends all the way down my back.” “It’s not my back that troubles me, it’s----” “And then I cough a great deal every morning when I wake up; there are days when I have regular paroxysms.” “I don’t cough, but----” “And then I expectorate very freely! Oh! I don’t try to stop that--it does me good.” “This is not a very amusing conversation!” said Madame Dufournelle in an undertone to her husband; he frowned at his wife, to enjoin silence upon her, whereupon she went to Mademoiselle Eolinde. “Well!” she said, “what are we to act? have you decided on the plays? What part are you going to give me? I want a pretty costume.” “You see how co--co--coquettish she is!” said Mademoiselle Glumeau, turning to her mother; “the co--costume is the first th--th--thing she th--thinks of.” “We haven’t yet decided on the whole entertainment,” said Madame Glumeau; “we are waiting until our whole troupe has arrived.” “If you need me,” said Monsieur Camuzard, “don’t hesitate; I’ll play any small part, or a utility rôle.” “It’s to be hoped that we shall not need him!” whispered Madame Dufournelle to her husband; “he’s altogether too hideous; he looks like a bird of prey.” “Hush, Eléonore, I beg you.” “My dear love, pray go and attend to what you have to do,” said Monsieur Glumeau, looking at his wife. “Our friends will excuse you; they know that the mistress of the house always has orders to give.”